Looking back to San Francisco
Wearing my blue Chinese dress
A yellow jacket with padded shoulders
Smoking Sobrani cigarettes
Four o'clock and the fog comes in
We all remember the sea
For several seconds, our sins are forgiven
Mine against you, yours against me
Don't wait for me and don't be sorry
Forget all of the letters we wrote
Leave to the foghorns our lonesome story
Let them sustain the heavy note
We order another margarita
Sipping it slow by the window
Nobody needs an Indian teacher
All they need is San Francisco
For we are driving most carefully home
Down roads that are floating and veiled
The Golden Gate, it's still gold, it's still great
Nobody's drunk, nothing has failed